


Into The Mystic

by notapartytrick



Series: The Room Where It Happens [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Peter Parker, College Student Peter Parker, F/M, First Day of School, Gen, Harley Keener & Peter Parker Friendship, Harley Keener is a Good Bro, High School is a Nightmare, Kobol is a Damn Good Dog, Meet-Cute, Mental Health Issues, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has a dog!, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Ned Leeds, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 21:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30078426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapartytrick/pseuds/notapartytrick
Summary: All in all, by the time Peter finally gets to class, he’s thrown up, possibly concussed himself, and met a new friend and the girl who’s probably the love of his life. What a ride.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: The Room Where It Happens [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109738
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	Into The Mystic

**Author's Note:**

> besties!!!!!  
> i fully expected to be out of commission for a few months because i was writing the first draft of my screenplay but i actually ended up knocking out the entire draft in under a month which is pretty cool?? editing it is less focus-consuming so i'm back on my incredibly spinny-offy bullshit! also this fic has no archive warnings i'm quite proud of myself :)  
> STILL: child sexual abuse is briefly and mildly mentioned. if you're not a fan of that... maybe don't read any of this series

_ 5th September 2022 _

_ First day of freshman year at the School of Visual Arts _

Peter’s new apartment is number 69420.

Yeah. At least he won’t forget it.

He gets the key with the ridiculous number and rides up and down in the elevator with Pepper and Tony, dumping luggage in the room to unpack. Toiletries. Kobol’s lead, food, harness, bed. Clothes, shoes, coats. Peter’s new JanSport backpack. Bean bags. Dragon bedsheets and posters and candles and house plants and art supplies to liven up Peter’s room, to make the space friendly. 

“How does it feel?” Tony asks him while they dress the bed together. 

Peter sits back and thinks. It’s a weird mash between his room at home and this new, foreign, tense, maybe pleasant space. There’s a big window that’s open wide to let in the summer breeze; that’s a big plus. Light and space. It might be enough.

“It’s just a room,” he says, “Not the Room. I think it’ll be nice.”

All the same, he can’t help but think about what a seismic change is taking place today. He can’t help but think about his first day at high school.

_ “I know it’s late afternoon, but you’re still within the school day, class,” Miss Ives called exasperatedly. At last, the other kids shut up.  _

_ Peter had been nervous all day, but it’s Miss Ives’ next words that upgrade his nerves to all-out panic: _

_ “We’ll be concluding your high school Citizenship course with lessons on sexual education. Today’s topic is consent.” _

_ Peter’s throat dried up. His chair became stuck through with spikes. The summer air drowned him. _

_ This was the moment he knew it - there was an evil mastermind cursing his life.  _

_ He stuck his hand up. _

_ “Peter, right? The new kid.” _

_ “Yeah.” At least, that’s what Peter presumed he’d said through the hammering in his ears. “May I use the bathroom, ma’am?” _

_ Some kids snickered at him. Maybe he’d been too formal. Maybe he was currently crapping his pants. _

_ “It was lunch break five minutes ago.” _

_ And just like that, she carried on. _

_ Peter sat with his head in his hands, trying to let the words wash meaninglessly over him, but, of course, no dice. Coercion. Violence. Sexual assault. Non-consensual. Rape. _

_ Stop, stop, stop, he willed Miss Ives. See me. Help me.  _

_ But all he was doing was sitting idly like all the other kids. She couldn’t see that he was frozen in place. That his pulse was making him dizzy. That Larry was whispering awful things in his ear-- _

_ “If there’s one thing you take home from this, it’s that. If there’s no consent, it’s rape. I want you all to note that down.” _

_ Now kids were making shuffling noises and writing down the point. Peter couldn’t. He really couldn’t. What if he was punished? _

_ But he wasn’t. Nobody even noticed. That he hadn’t made the note, that he’d been sitting motionlessly for what must have been at least ten minutes. _

_ Look at me. Help me. _

_ Sound began to dissipate, leaving him alone with Larry and his empty workbook. That was when it got hard to tell how long he was stuck there for. _

_ Then, through the haze: “Peter, everyone needs a contribution. I told you that before. Do you have nothing to say?” _

_ Yes, Peter wished he could reply, yes! I need to talk to you! I need help! _

_ But he said nothing. He couldn’t even look up. _

_ Please, please, please - just notice that something’s wrong. _

_ “Peter? Are you alright?” _

_ The lasers of his classmates’ eyes all turned on him. _

_ “Peter?” _

_ A hand on him-- _

_ No. Peter fell away, hit his head, and ended up on the floor under his desk. Oh, crap. He probably looked so stupid. His worries were confirmed when a burst of laughter rippled around the classroom.  _

_ Best first day ever. Making a great impression. _

_ One bonus: his fingers were free. He started tapping. Dot dot, dash dot dash dot, dot dash…  _

_ I CAN’T MOVE. _

_ The morse code proved useless because he was with a Citizenship teacher, not Tony. She tried to say something to him, but whatever it was got drowned out by Larry.  _

_ At last, Peter distantly caught the sound of the class leaving the room. Then it was just him and Miss Ives and the voices in his head.  _

_ “I think we’ll just sit quietly for the moment,” she said to Peter. Well, he didn’t have much of a choice, but he was glad she wasn’t trying to touch him again. So they sat quietly. Peter kept tapping, more to hit back at the flashbacks in his head than anything else. _

_ He remembers with absolute clarity the moment when Tony had arrived. He got under the table with Peter as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Peter tapped out I CAN’T MOVE on the side of his head and, to his relief, Tony understood. “Thanks for letting me know, buddy. Let’s work on that.” _

Not Peter’s favourite memory. 

But he’d had Tony, at least. This - living independently, his family a two-hour drive away, and managing both keeping himself alive and getting a college degree - yeah, it’s pretty daunting. He’s been told it’s daunting for everyone, but he’s really very daunted. Like, clinging-to-Tony’s-hand-as-they-entered-the-building daunted.

But he’s college-aged and he wants to go to college for real. He’s sick of being the kidnapped kid. He just wants to be a normal college kid.

“Peter Parker!”

And in bursts the roommate that might just keep him alive these next few years.

“Harley!”

Harley looks to be by himself. He’s wearing a corduroy jumpsuit, worn-to-pieces Vans hightops, and a cap jammed on top of his curls that has a picture of an umbrella embroidered on it.  _ Wow, he’s cool, _ Peter thinks instantly, suddenly feeling painfully basic in his plain jeans and t-shirt. 

Harley’s juggling a million different suitcases and bags. Peter takes a few of them before Harley can drop them. This is when he realises that Harley is, like, over six feet tall. 

Harley picks up on their height difference at the same time as him. “Don’t take this personally, but you’re way shorter than I thought over Zoom.”

“Does that mean I’m weirdly short or that I give off tall vibes?” Peter comments, half joking and half really wondering. Maybe he’s a little insecure about his height. It’s hard to be five foot five.

Harley starts to go in for a hug, then stops himself, realising who he’s about to dole out possibly uncomfortable physical contact to, and ends awkwardly by hitting the whoa.

“Wow,” is all he says.

Peter shakes his hand hastily. “What’s the umbrella on your hat?” he asks.

Harley grins. “The Umbrella Academy.”

“Oh, was that your high school?”

This cracks Harley up. “Have you not heard of the show? It’s on Netflix.”

“Right. I’m still not super up-to-date on media and stuff. My time is mostly taken up by nature documentaries.”

“Nature documentaries?” Harley questions, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. David Attenborough and stuff.”

“They’ve always bored me, to be honest. You’ll have to show me some. And I’ll show you the Umbrella Academy.”

Peter finds himself getting really excited about this. Someone to watch TV shows with and talk about them after? Someone who’s open to watching his documentaries? That’s something he’s been longing for since he rejoined school. “Yeah, for sure! I’ve never really had…”

“No friends?” Harley says bluntly but not incorrectly. “I can relate.”

_ “You _ can relate?”

“Honey, up until today, I’ve been living in Rose Hill, Tennessee, looking  _ this _ camp. I can totally relate. Most of the bros in my neck of the woods don’t touch me with a ten-foot pole for fear of catching the curse of having emotional expression.”

Peter snorts. “I think New York City should change that.”

He helps Harley unpack in his room for a while, unrolling posters from a hundred other TV shows and films and bands Peter mostly hasn’t heard of and holding them for Harley to pin up.

And then everything is unpacked. Pepper’s even put a week’s worth of food in the kitchenette. There’s nothing left to do.

So Tony and Pepper have to go.

Pepper senses that it’s time. She wraps him in a hug and he melts into her.

“Oh, man,” Peter sighs against her shoulder. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she tells him softly. "Don’t let college overcome you, alright? I know you try to be perfect a lot of the time, but life doesn’t usually work out that way. Just try your best, and it will be enough."

She squeezes him one last time, then leaves with a sad smile. Peter watches her go, her cardigan and light perfume and warmth. His first loss of the day.

Tony glances at him from across the room.

Peter doesn’t want to acknowledge what’s about to happen. He scuffs his feet.

“Looks like that’s it,” Tony remarks eventually.

“I guess so.”

Silence.

It suddenly feels like the worst idea in the world to let the only person who’s ever understood Peter’s language leave him.

Tony falters.

“Three meals a day, every day,” he says, sounding far from stern. “Fruit and veg.”

Peter nods. He tries not to let his face fall. “Of course.”

“If anyone offers you drugs, say no.”

“Yeah.”

Now they’re walking towards one another, heading for a collision. 

“Get outside every day. You know how it messes you up when you shut yourself indoors.”

"I will." 

Tony looks torn apart. "And do your damn laundry." 

"I’ll try my best." 

They crash into each other. Peter’s already crying. Tony starts kissing him vehemently: his forehead, cheek, head, shoulders.

Peter dreads the moment when they’ll have to let go. It’ll feel like tearing away half of himself along with Tony.

“Try to stay in touch,” Tony murmurs to him. Then, “No, I’m making that a mandate. Call home once a week.”

“Make that twice,” Peter says wetly.

“Don’t be afraid to ask me for help, alright? I can always drive up here for you. And in the meantime, tell me about everything that goes on.”

Peter crushes his dad to him and whispers, “I love you so much.”

Now Tony’s dampening his shoulder. “Love you too. Hey, I love you so much it literally gives me a cardiac arrhythmia. How about that?”

They start to laugh, messily, wetly, drowning in the awful comedy of parting.

“I wish this wasn’t so hard,” Peter blurts.

"We could do this differently. It could be easier if you need it to be.”

"I don't need an out, Tony. I need to do this."

"Then stop crying, mother of God.” Tony chuckles despite everything. “You know I can't stand your crying face."

So Peter steps away and dries his tears, plastering on a smile. He looks up at Tony.

“How about this?”

As Tony looks at him, he loses the desperation that had hung about him and becomes wistful, heartbreakingly wistful. He smiles and says, “Look at you, kid. You’re gonna rock college.”

Trying his damndest not to break, Peter steps in for one last, lingering hug. A hug he’ll remember. A hug that will have to do until winter break. Because he’s got no intention of getting Tony to drive up here. He’s gonna be a college kid, no matter how terrifying that might be.

But then Tony turns away. He almost runs out of the apartment, looking back just once at Peter, a look that kills Peter. He shuts the door behind him and is gone.

Kobol scrabbles at the closed door and whines. Peter is a step away from doing the same thing.

“Oh,” he breathes to himself. “Oh, my God.”

“Peter,” comes Harley’s voice as he emerges from his own room, “I don’t know if you’re up for a furniture trip just now but I think, at some point, it’d be really cool to get, like, a nice chair and rug and stuff to--”

Peter can’t face him. He runs away, Kobol at his heels, shuts himself in his bedroom, and allows himself to implode.

Man. He feels like an idiot. Harley probably saw, too.

Kobol, at least, is still with him. He recognises that Peter’s having a freakout and nudges his head against Peter’s hands to get him to stop gripping his hair. Peter lays back on his bed; Kobol lies on top of his torso to slow his heart rate and ground him with the pressure. Such a damn good dog.

Still, there’s a hole ripped out of Peter’s chest, the contents of which are driving further and further away from him every moment.

Peter taps out TONY on Kobol’s fur. He’s not sure why. He doesn’t expect an answer.

He blinks, and his room darkens - windows and decorations dissolving and leaving only bare concrete walls, a small skylight.

There’s a knock at the door that makes him jump out of his skin. Kobol licks his face.

“Sorry,” Peter says, attempting to sound like he’s not in the middle of a very uncool breakdown, “I’m… kinda busy right now. Can you - can you please go away?”

Muffled through the door: “Nope. That would be neglecting my duties as your roomie."

There’s silence for a while. Harley’s clearly not about to leave. Peter’s getting tired of silencing his sobs, so he gives in: “Fine. Come in if you want.”

The door opens, not with a  _ click _ but a gentle  _ creak, _ admitting worn-to-pieces Vans hightops.

Whatever he’d expected from Harley’s reaction - probably the derision and disgust he’d mostly received at high school - it doesn’t happen. Harley approaches with an expression of careful calm and sits on the floor so he’s a little way away from where Peter’s splayed out on his bed. For the next minute or so, he continues just sitting quietly. 

Peter thinks  _ screw it _ and continues to sob. Harley just nods, as if to say,  _ yeah, that’s about right. _

Harley knows more about Peter than most of his high school peers did. He knows about the Room, and he knows about the rape. He knows about the PTSD, anxiety, trust and sensory issues. Peter knows a little about Harley’s ADHD, about his difficult home life. They did a Zoom call to get to know one another before deciding to be roommates. They both needed the extra security.

Peter doesn’t even notice that he’s tapped out something until Harley taps back on the inside of Peter’s wrist: NO.

Peter had said ALONE.

Peter turns to look at Harley in shock. “You know morse code?”

“Learnt it overnight once. Way back.”

If Harley was cool before, he’s infinitely cooler now. He understands Peter.

“I’m sorry,” Peter blurts.

“What for?” Harley asks him, and he looks genuinely confused.

“I’m actually crying over my parents leaving me. It shouldn’t be this big of a deal. I’m acting like a… like a weenie.”

Harley doubles over with wheezing.

“A weenie?” he cackles. “Was that actually the first word that came to mind?”

“I don’t know!” 

And now Peter’s crying, laughing and hiccupping all at the same time. 

Harley sets his chin on the mattress, still grinning up at Peter, and - wow. Peter’s hit by something. Future best friend vibes? Hopefully.

He tries to make his point again. “Look. You’re fine. It’s not a problem for you.”

Harley shrugs. “I didn’t even take my family with me. It’s different. You and Tony, you’re  _ tight. _ You’re all earnest and soft and I dig that. I love my mom, but - not like you and Tony. I couldn’t even compare.” 

Peter sighs, absentmindedly mussing Kobol’s fur. “I’m just sorry you’ve gotta put up with me being screwed up already. It’s only been an hour.”

_ “Jesus _ . Would you quit it?” Harley makes a face. “Self-deprecation gives me hives.”

“It does?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Harley sits up. “Hey. I opted in for this. I know you’re screwed up. Me too. That’s why we’ll be good roommates, right?”   


“I guess so.”

“I’m gonna be honest, I’m kind of petrified too. I mean, should I come out to everyone? Do I need to? Will I get a weird teacher? Why are all the buildings so  _ tall _ around here?”

Peter snorts.

“We can be petrified together. We can both be…” Harley raises his eyebrows devilishly.  _ “Weenies.” _

“Oh, God,” Peter groans.    


Harley is smug. “I’m never letting that go.”

Peter’s not even mad. It’s an inside joke, and he’s very excited about having an inside joke with Harley Keener.

“It’s really cool to know I have someone to be a weenie with,” Peter says, feigning solemnity.

Harley becomes energetic. “Speaking of shared weenie activities, what about that shopping trip? Also, at some point - not to sound like a prototypical Gay Best Friend, but if you ever feel like you could bear a makeover, I might cry with relief. I may have snooped around your wardrobe, and you could do with something other than blue shirts and jeans in there. I know you’re straight, but come on. But that’s not a demand. I’m not trying to threaten you with good style, don’t worry. Oh, and we should definitely go to some orientation stuff if you’re up for it. Maybe make some friends. Find a cool society or something. Bring the dog! I bet we’ll make friends if we bring the dog. Everyone loves fluffy dogs. Even people who're allergic to dogs will love Kobol because Samoyeds are hypoallergenic and that is a fact I discovered this morning at 4am.”

Harley’s eyes are wide. Peter bites back a grin at him.

Getting rapidly to his feet and beckoning for Peter, Harley says, “Please come with me so I’ll shut up."

Peter obliges, if only for the hilarious panic on Harley’s face. He finds that, at least for the moment, his panic has faded into the background.

They go to orientation.

* * *

Peter meets Ned Leeds in the bathroom ten minutes before class.

More specifically, he meets him in the stall next to him as they retch into neighbouring toilet bowls. It’s such a coincidence it’s  _ almost  _ funny. 

Ned has food poisoning. Peter is just so damn nervous for his class he’s throwing up spontaneously. 

At last, Peter feels well enough to sit back. He yanks some toilet roll out of the dispenser and wipes his mouth. His clothes are clean, thank God. Embarrassingly sweaty, though.

He pulls out his phone. A text from Tony:  _ Go ace today. Know you’ll smash it [SUNGLASSES EMOJI] tell me everything that’s an order  _

Peter laughs. He sends a heart back and leaves it at that, not wanting to worry Tony with the details.

“Doing alright?” he calls over to Ned, who’s gone quiet.

The returning voice is thin and tremulous. “I think if I don’t move at all… it stops. So I’m gonna stay... really still.”

“Keep sipping water.”

“I drank it all.”   


“I’m getting up. I’ll refill it.”

“Don’t pass out,” Ned warns him.

Peter gets up only for his vision to black out. He hits the side of the stall; it shudders and clangs. He grips the toilet paper dispenser, waits it out, and, mercifully, doesn’t pass out.

“You almost passed out, didn’t you?”   


“I’m good,” Peter says. He doesn’t sound good, though. “It’s just nerves. It can’t be that bad.”

Ned doesn’t say anything, but Peter can somehow hear the silent judgement radiating from the neighbouring stall.

Whatever. He fills Ned’s bottle at the sinks and goes and sits by him to hand it back to him. Ned looks washed out, of course, but he’s got a friendly-looking face. His t-shirt has Han Solo’s face on it.

“Oh,” he breathes, “You’re short.”

Peter sighs.

“I didn’t mean it in a nasty way. I was just… remarking. With hindsight, it was maybe a weird remark to make.”

“It’s okay. I’m short because I spent four years of my life imprisoned in a shed and I didn’t get enough sunlight to grow.”

Ned starts so violently Peter’s worried he’s about to gag again.

Maybe he’d been too honest.

There’s nothing to say for a moment.

“That is  _ insane,” _ Ned blurts.

Peter laughs a little, taken by surprise. “Yeah.” 

“I mean - I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“It’s really alright.”

“No  _ wonder _ you threw up.”

Peter laughs more. “It’s not a regular thing.”

“When did you get out?”

“I was sixteen. But I’m eighteen now, and I’m doing college, so it doesn’t matter.” Peter’s desperate to stop talking about the one thing that has defined his teenage years, the thing all his relationships are built on. “Where’d you get that T-shirt?”

Ned’s jaw drops. “You know about  _ Star Wars?” _

“Yeah, man. I was kidnapped, I'm not an alien.”

“Right.” And Ned launches into the tale of his thrift-store T-shirt. Somewhere along the line, Peter finds out his degree is in Animation and he crowdfunded the entire tuition fee because his parents wouldn’t pay a penny. But Ned loves them anyway. 

Before Peter knows any of this, he knows he likes Ned a lot.

* * *

Peter meets MJ when he crashes into her. Headfirst. Bashing his head in the process. This happens just sixty seconds after he parts ways with Ned in the bathroom, heading to class.   
Yeah. A crazy first day.

Peter’s running because the vomiting has made him late and making a bad impression on the first day is one of the things he wanted to do  _ least _ at college. He did it at high school. Not again. And his vision is still a little funny, and, of course, he’s still anxious as hell, his heart racing, because if he walks in late and has to sit in an awkward spot and the professor judges him and grades him harshly it’ll be the worst thing ever and everyone will stare and laugh and he’ll be remembered forever as  _ that boy who came in late and probably had vomit stains on his t-shirt-- _

_ Thud. _ He hits the ground before he knows  _ what _ he hit. All he knows when he looks over, disoriented, is that he’s just plowed into the most  _ gorgeous-- _

_ “Fuck,” _ spits the girl viciously, “My head. Why were you running like that?”   


“Why were you coming out of class?” Peter says faintly.

“Had to change my tampon.”

Peter flushes.

MJ just snorts at him. “Is the fact that women bleed from their vaginas new to you?”

Even if Peter had the wherewithal to answer that (it actually  _ is _ quite new to him, embarrassingly enough) he’s distracted by something hot dripping into his eye.

“Oh,” he says, trying not to panic. “Uh… what’s on my face?”

“Uh oh. Well, speaking of bleeding…”

Wait, what? 

She’s moving towards him. Is she gonna… kiss him? No. Peter thinks his head got knocked around when he collided with her. Maybe this is the last straw after Larry hit his head one too many times in the Room. He thinks he’s also in the middle of some love-at-first-sight feels and he’s incredibly pumped about that. Love! Falling in love with a girl! She’s sweary, but it’s kind of refreshing! And she’s wearing black jeans, she’s got some sort of layered t-shirt thing going on, and there’s a worn necklace around her neck that maybe has some kind of cool story attached to it, and her face - it’s  _ perfectly proportioned, _ no jokes, perfect, pretty brown eyes and a sharp jaw and curly hair that settles around her shoulders and maybe Peter’s sort of objectifying her by falling in love with her just from looking at her but doesn’t this happen all the time? Love at first sight? The girl and the boy collide and at the end of the movie he gets to be with her?

But, like, only if she wants to, of course.

The girl, it turns out, is pressing a tissue to the place on Peter’s head that must be bleeding. Coincidentally, it’s also a  _ very painful _ place, and Peter ducks away on instinct.

“Woah,” the girl says. “I’m trying to help.”

“What’s your name?” Peter asks her dazedly, letting her put the tissue back. 

She tells him. “MJ.”  _ MJ.  _ What does it stand for?

They’re both sat on the floor like they’re supposed to be there, books and bags detritus around them. They’re space dust and this girl is the sun in Peter’s personal solar system.

When Peter tells MJ his name, she looks at him intently. Peter’s too timid to ask her if she’d seen the news.

She mentions it anyway: “Peter Parker? The boy in the shed?”

“You’ve caught me,” Peter huffs. “You live in the suburbs?”   


“Outskirts of town. I watch crime news a lot.”   


“Did you… follow my case?”

“Not, like, obsessively. I’m just... observant.” She casts about, and -  _ oh! She’s awkward!  _ This is good news for Peter, who, in case you can’t tell yet, is  _ incredibly _ awkward. Eventually, she says, “That must have sucked.”

“Uh… it did. Thanks?”   


“We should get to class,” she says suddenly.

“Oh. Oh, no. Yeah.” 

Peter rushes to gather up his stuff, but MJ’s hand stops him. “Take it easy. You just got clocked with my face.”

Peter swallows. MJ’s hand is touching his. MJ’s hand is touching his.

“Thanks,” he chokes. Oh, God, he’s  _ obvious. _ MJ picks up his stuff for him, which is really nice. Then she turns to go, and  _ you’re missing your shot, Peter-- _

“Is the - is the class nice?”

It’ll do.

“Yeah, actually,” MJ says. “Maybe you should go to it.”

She turns on her heel; her hair flies out around her.

* * *

All in all, by the time Peter finally gets to class, he’s thrown up, possibly concussed himself, and met a new friend and the girl who’s probably the love of his life. What a ride.

**Author's Note:**

> this is only the beginning of lots of more serious whump i will inflict on peter throughout his time at college!!! college is hard, man (i haven't been yet but people say it is lmao ignore the unrealistic college representation in these fics because i can't be bothered to do proper research)  
> what's been going on irl? well, i've been at online lessons for goddamn FOREVER but soon i will Finally Be At School. and then online again but then school for real hopefully forever!!!! i hope life is safely starting to improve for all you guys :)


End file.
